


Please Don’t Go

by finitegray



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Spencer Reid, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Dominant Aaron Hotchner, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hotch is a BAMF, Hurt Spencer Reid, Later mutual pining, Light BDSM, M/M, Pining, Possessive!Hotch, Protective Aaron Hotchner, Protective!Hotch, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slow Burn, Smut, Spencer Reid Angst, Spencer Reid Whump, Spencer is baby, Top Aaron Hotchner, Whump, fuck buddies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:27:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29851170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finitegray/pseuds/finitegray
Summary: How do you offer comfort to the one person on the team who feels their duty is to remain strong? How do you offer comfort to the one you have growing feelings for? How do you ask him not to leave?~In which he does his best, even when it doesn't include statistics.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid
Comments: 5
Kudos: 65





	1. In Which It Isn’t His Fault

It was late. Not necessarily late enough that the others would consider it morning, but to Spencer Reid, two a.m. was still a far cry from ‘early’ even if it was, technically,  _ morning.  _ However, he acknowledged that for most cases, heading back successfully this early on was considered lucky. He didn’t personally consider it luck, though - he simply understood it was their accurate profiling and team members that allowed them this victory.

A glance at the back of the jet had him releasing a sigh, raking a hand through his honey brown curls as he fell into the memories. They’d split up and gone to three separate locations in order to gather the final pieces of evidence to pin the suspect. JJ and Prentiss went to the abduction site, the school; Morgan and Rossi to the unsubs apartment; and that left Spencer and Hotch on point for the warehouse the unsub was renting under an alias. 

Spencer suspected, based on the geographical profile he’d established the day prior, that the unsub was most likely doing the murders in said warehouse. However, they still needed concrete evidence outside of their profile to be able to pin the other abductions and murders to the unsub.

Spencer absentmindedly brought his hand up and placed his fingers against his lips, the view of the jet fading as he recalled what they found. Hotch had made it to the warehouse door and was waiting for Spencer to finish on the phone with Garcia - they’d positively ID’d the suspects vehicle in the parking lot and contacted Garcia to inform the rest of the team and alert backup. Spencer had been stepping out of the SUV when the gunshot had gone off, leaving him to scramble for his glock and race after Hotch. 

The sight inside had twisted his stomach.

He shook his head to clear the vivid memory of the victim bleeding out and rested his gaze on his superior. The unit chief would normally spend the time on the jet socialising with the team or writing up the reports on how the case had been closed. Today, he had chosen to do neither.

Spencer had watched as each member of the team other than himself had approached Hotch to try and pull the older man into conversation; ranging from Emily offering a place in their card game to Rossi extending his help in writing reports. Hotch had shot them all down and managed to shoo them to the front of the jet, much to their dismay. Spencer tipped his head back and sucked in a deep breath, knowing that it was his turn to try. He figured that since he was there when it happened, Hotch might take more to his approach than the others. 

He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, ignoring the trembling, and straightened his vest. He knew he wasn’t known for being the best at reassuring, especially as his go-to method involved reciting statistics in hopes of distracting and a jerky pat on the back. 

On one hand, he understood that comforting required more than just simply offering facts on whatever the person in need was struggling with, but he continued to feel out of his depth whenever others approached him and he could tell they were hurting so he wound up resorting to the one thing that always helped him pull through.

He’d tried to console JJ in previous occasions, such as when Will had been hurt, and her responses were… not entirely a crash and burn. That is, if you consider laughing and a strained grin to be anything other than negative. Prentiss had shut him down four words into his spiel when he’d tried with her and Rossi somehow turned every conversation back to Spencer himself. Garcia would draw him into a hug (which also had the added effect of shutting him up) and Morgan always teased something along the lines of, “Oh, look at that! Our pretty boy has a soft side, too.” 

Running through his previous attempts, he gathered that he probably wasn’t the best option to offer Hotch solace, especially as he’d never tried and had no basis to go on how to do it. Maybe it was the stoic, cold air about the older man, or the lack of a truly happy presence other than when Jack was mentioned, but Spencer was intimidated by the very idea of approaching their boss with anything other than a muted greeting or talk of a case.

Even when Haley had been murdered by Foyet, Spencer had been at a loss for words. The unbidden memory of him gaping like a fish came to mind, followed by forced smiles and the occasional nod and he felt embarrassment well up within him. He stamped it down and shook out his mind from unwanted memories.

Looking at the unit chief now, seeing the tightness around his mouth and the misty eyes he was trying to shield from the team, Spencer knew he had to try something. Even if he was bad at it, even if he knew it might not turn out well, this was the man their team went to when they needed help and it was time to return the gesture. That, and Spencer couldn’t get past the lump in his throat at the sight.

He inhaled through his nose and blew it out his mouth before rising, slinging his messenger back over his shoulder. He swept a glance over the other occupants of the jet as means to assure they’d be otherwise distracted and not see his blundering comfort attempt. JJ and Prentiss were asleep side by side, Emily’s head resting on JJ’s shoulder, and Rossi was across from them, head tilted back, snoring lightly, and hands folded on his lap. Morgan was sitting with Garcia (who they’d had to help search the computers of the victims). They were both asleep as well, resting against each other as Morgan held her hand. 

Spencer couldn’t stop the small smile that twisted his lips as he observed them. No matter what cases they tackled, or the personal issues that cropped up, he knew he’d always find a home in these people. His team. His family.

You always support family, no matter how awkward you think it may be.

He sucked his lip into his mouth, latching onto it with his teeth as he turned to the back. He carefully picked his way down the aisle, looking down to ignore the way Hotch discreetly attempted to wipe his eyes. Hotch didn’t need him to acknowledge his pain.

“Are you not tired yet?” he asked, being sure to keep a soft tone so as not to disturb the others. He ducked out of his messenger bag and set it beside him as he slid in to rest opposite the unit chief. “We did good today. We, ah, managed to catch him before he got the chance to take another student.”

Hotch’s expression twisted briefly before shuttering, and Spencer’s lips dipped down into a frown at the sight. His gaze dropped to the table and turned more sad than sour at the sight of his boss’ fists, the whites of Hotch’s knuckles straining. The memory of the last victim flashed behind his eyes and it clicked that she had faintly resembled Haley. Perhaps that is why he was so torn up, he mused, raising his eyes.

“I could say the same about you, Reid,” Hotch finally answered, dark eyes locking with hazel. Spencer’s heart stuttered at the steady gaze and he quickly busied himself with pulling the case files and notes out from today to begin his own reports. “Why don’t you get some rest. You can do that in the morning.”

“Technically, it is morning,” Spencer shot back, glancing at Hotch’s watch. 2:34a.m. Brown eyes crinkled with amusement despite lips remaining in a fine line and Spencer offered an awkward grin of his own before resuming his work. He began filling out a detailed recount of the case. Soft honey locks dipped into hazel eyes as he worked, half-hazardly shoving them behind his ear again.

“I suppose you have me there.” Hotch chuckled and quickly sobered, twisting around to look out the window. “But you should still sleep. It’s been a long two days for all of us,” he murmured, his apple’s adam bobbing. Spencer set down his pencil and twisted his fingers together, gnawing on his lip for a moment as he gathered courage.

“It wasn’t your fault, Hotch,” he blurted after a moment of silence. Hotch’s eyes swiveled back to his, wide from his outburst. Spencer felt twin spots of color bloom high on his cheeks but this was important. He needed to continue. “It wasn’t your fault that she died. We knew going into it that if he suspected us of being there, or even being close, that he would kill her. He’s sadistic and his M.O. reflects that; if he couldn’t torture her like he wanted, then he knew he could torture us by shooting her. It wasn’t anyone’s fault that he made us before we got inside.”   
  


~

Hotch’s mouth flattened and his gaze dropped. Here was their awkward genius boy, the most gifted mind at the BAU, offering him comfort. He knew that, even with the others, Reid struggled to soothe. It wasn’t necessarily that he was innately  _ bad  _ at it, more so just… that the younger man tended to shy away from their pain, so clearly Hotch must have been more obvious about how this case affected him than he realized. Though, he probably should’ve taken note of that as every member of his team had made a point to interact with him on the jet before he turned them away. 

He fought back momentary shame. He was supposed to be their leader, he was supposed to offer  _ them  _ reassurance and kind words. He swallowed the bittersweet feeling rising up in his throat and jolted when a touch ghosted over his hand.

He met Reid’s eyes and studied him briefly, noting the faint dust of pink in his face which contrasted with the determined glint within the hazel irises. 

“It wasn’t your fault, Aaron,” Reid firmly stated, dropping his gaze to their hands. He gently pried open Hotch’s fingers and Hotch reeled at his first name spilling from Reid’s lips. He’d heard it from Rossi, and occasionally from JJ and Prentiss, but never Reid. It was… different. 

Hotch shook out of his thoughts and looked down to where they were touching, surprise flitting across his face as he took in the red crescents marring his skin. He hadn’t realized he’d been clenching his hands so tight. He felt embarrassment threaten to surface.

Reid used his free hand to pull out a first aid kit from the depth of his messenger bag. Hotch felt himself raise an eyebrow at that, not knowing that the younger carried around such a thing. Reid opened it and pulled out a bacterial wipe before meeting Hotch’s gaze.

He found himself nodding at the silent question before it fully registered and nearly hissed at the unexpected sting as Reid dabbed at the cuts. He was thorough and Hotch remained still, observing the genius tending to him. The warmth from Reid’s hands was a welcome change and he focused on that as he listened to the soft voice.

“I started carrying this kit around after I’d been left without bandages too many times to count. It took months of me getting paper cuts in the bullpen before Emily finally told me off and demanded I get one,” he added, a bashful grin on his face. Hotch tilted his head and merely listened as the younger man swapped the wipe for medicine and began to apply it. “Before that, I’d always have to go to her or JJ because I’d run out of bandages or medicine.”

“I can see Prentiss getting on you about that. JJ probably didn’t mind as she’s used to being the mother of the team, next to Garcia of course,” Hotch found himself replying. Reid’s eyes darted up to lock with his and for a moment, it was peaceful. For a moment, he forgot about Haley and Foyet and the victim today that faintly resembled her. For a moment, he allowed himself peace in hazel eyes and warm smiles, peace in Reid’s presence and heartfelt words.

And then that moment ended, and the slight smile that had begun to form on his lips faded. Reid’s eyes fluttered as if he were coming out of a trance and Hotch’s brow furrowed, trying to piece together the puzzle that was Reid.

“I, ah. I cleaned the cuts and put the medicine on them. Just be careful as we come into contact with roughly sixty-thousand germs daily. In our line of work, it’s probably double that, but that’s beside the point,” he rambled. Hotch’s eyes studied the nervous tilt of his mouth and how his cheeks were warming the most adorable shade of red.

_ Adorable?  _ He blinked hard and quickly took his hand from Reid’s mentally shaking his head of the thought. Adorable like a kid, perhaps. Though Jack had never been quite this shy, or blushed so easy, nor was he anywhere as smart. And yet, despite being only nine, Jack’s confidence rivaled that of a king.

He was brought abruptly from his thoughts by Reid shuffling his papers together and shoving them back in his back. Hotch knew he was being cold, but he didn’t feel right accepting comfort after failing the victim today. Logic told him they couldn’t save everyone, but it was Haley’s face staring back at him in his mind’s eyes, telling him to make sure Jack knew how they’d met and that love existed. He glanced down at the now clean cuts, watching the light reflect off the medicine on his palm, and felt her pleas fade away, chest lightening.

His eyes found Reid’s as the younger man stopped and turned back to him. 

“Hotch? It really wasn’t your fault today.” He hesitated for a moment, then offered the smallest of smiles. “I promise,” he added in a murmur. Hotch clenched his jaw and nodded stiffly, ignoring the tugging of his heart at such a sincere, innocent declaration from his youngest subordinate.

“Go get some sleep, Reid,” he replied thickly, clearing his throat. He pulled out his own copy of today’s files and papers and tried to ignore the budding smile on Reid’s face. “You could do with a few hours before we get back.”

“Yes sir!” 


	2. In Which He Is Shot

It was dark. Hands were grasping at him. He could feel the tightness around his upper arms. Spencer thrashed and cried out.

_ “Kid?” _

_ “Prentiss, call for medics!” _

Kid? He wasn’t a kid. At least, he didn’t think so. Maybe he was? He couldn’t remember. His thigh burnt. His body ached. Why did it burn so bad? Who needed medics? Was someone hurt?

_ “Spence! Come on, Spencer, open your eyes. Please!” _

This time it was a feminine voice, soft and coated in what he deduced as worry. The lilting tone sounded familiar but when he reached for his memory he was met with pain. He could hear another feminine voice on the phone, mentioning that someone needed medical attention.

Hot liquid dripped down his skin and a groan bubbled out of his mouth. He turned his head. He could hear someone asking him to open his eyes again, but he didn’t understand. Were they not open already?

Open and staring into the eyes of the killer. Dark green with flecks of gold. The coldest stare he’d ever seen.

_ Oh. _

Yes. It was coming back to him now, the memories flooding through in rapid succession, nearly overwhelming him. Hunting the unsub, being taken by surprise and separated from the team. He’d been shot… no… stabbed? Yes. Stabbed, with a jagged knife.

_ That’s where the pain is coming from,  _ he realized. So much pain, white-hot, centered in his thigh. 

_ “Reid? Can you hear me?” _

This voice wasn’t like the others. It was soft, pleading. A velvety baritone that seeped through his bones and caused the tension to leave his body. It sounded familiar.

_ “Come on, Reid, you need to open your eyes. Please,”  _ it murmured. He felt a hand on his for a brief moment, the contact drawing his conscious mind out of the fog. What was happening? The sounds around him grew louder and he squeezed the hand covering his. The hand squeezed back and the velvety voice was back again, this time with more relief. “That’s it. Come on now.”

Spencer’s eyes fluttered open only to immediately shut at the piercing brightness. Between that and the approaching sirens, his brain seemed to scream.

“Lower your flashlight, Dave. Give him a minute to adjust,” Hotch instructed, hand tightening around Spencer’s once more before releasing it as he blew out a breath. Spencer opened his eyes, slowly this time, and took a minute to let his vision adjust. His heartbeat pounded as his eyes met the dark brown ones above him. He faintly registered Prentiss announcing that the medics were only two minutes out.

“H-Hotch?” he coughed, raising his free hand to wipe at his face. More memories of the day surfaced. He’d been beaten, presumably with a bat or another hard object, he didn’t see it through the pain. He began running through his injuries. A lump on the back of the head due to the blitz attack that allowed the unsub to take him. He recalled being kicked in the ribs and beaten awake. Broken rib? Ribs? He wasn’t sure, other than the pain in his torso whenever he inhaled. He was bruised in multiple places, but those would heal the fastest. Spencer lowered his hand from his face and balked at the blood. Was it his? Were there more injuries he didn’t remember?

“Yes, it’s Hotch. You’re alright now, the medics are close,” the older man murmured, meeting his gaze again. Spencer registered that their hands were no longer touching. He missed the warmth. “The blood on your hand is from a cut on your face. Morgan already secured the unsub and the latest victim, the young boy, was found alive. If you hadn’t done what you had to distract the boy, he would have killed the boy. Everyone else is fine as well, save for Morgan’s knuckles.”

Spencer managed a wobbly smile at that. He knew Hotch was being generous with his words purely because he was hurt, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

His eyelids fluttered and grew heavy, the sounds around him growing muted. He barely heard the screech of tires as the ambulance arrived outside. His team was safe. The boy was safe. He could rest.

~

It was dark, the kind of darkness that came with dust when the last light of day was still trying to cling to the earth. He glanced around the room, expecting to be alone, and jolted when he found himself face to face with a boy no more than ten.

“Ryan?” he mumbled, brow furrowing. He raised a hand to rub at his head. There was a splitting pain all over his body.

“You killed me, Spencer,” the boy replied with a tone to match his flat stare. He shuffled closer and held out a hand.

A frown turned Spencer’s lips as Ryan deposited the object onto his lap. His gaze dropped but he couldn’t make it out in the darkness.

“Ryan, what do you mean? We saved you. I saved you,” Spencer insisted, meeting the boy’s eyes once more. He found it hard to focus on anything, the edges of his sight growing blurry.

“He took my heart, Spencer. It’s your fault.”

Spencer’s stomach twisted and he slowly lowered his gaze to his lap. 

Resting against his knees was a throbbing, dark bloody heart. He watched it slowly stop pulsing and grow darker in color before starting to crumble to dust.  _ No no no no, this can’t be happening! _

“It’s your fault,” Ryan echoed, blood pouring from his eyes and mouth. Spencer jolted.

_ “Reid?” _

“We didn’t - but I saved you! The unsub didn’t do this, he couldn’t-” Spencer stuttered, feeling bile crawl up his throat. Ryan slowly crumpled to the ground, blood coating his pale skin.

“Your fault.”

_ “Reid, wake up!” _

_ “What’s goin’ on, Hotch?! Reid, come on!” _

Spencer’s vision darkened. His fault? Was it? Did Ryan die because of him…?

_ “He’s having a nightmare.” _

_ “Kid, come on! Open your eyes!” _

_ “Spencer!” _

He shot up from the sofa, narrowly missing Hotch’s head as the older man jerked back. JJ, Morgan, and the unit chief all surrounded him, varying degrees of shock and pity on their expressions. Spencer tensed as he remembered.

Arguing with the doctor until they released him, telling them he’d be better off recovering from his injuries in his own home. The doctor had been exasperated at his stubbornness. Hotch stepping in and fixing Spencer with his signature SSA Hotchner glare. 

Spencer had been released in time to join the others on the jet with multiple warnings to be mindful of his injuries and to take it easy. No exercising or fieldwork for three weeks. He’d needed stitches, but they’d done the dissolvable kind so he only needed to go back once for a check-up.

Now, seeing the faces of his companions twisted the way they were, his mouth felt sour. He hated pity.

“Guys, I’m fine,” he snapped, bringing his hands up to smooth over his shirt. Hotch lowered himself to the seat across from Spencer’s but JJ and Morgan remained close. He tried to ignore the ice creeping down his back and the fast thrum of his heart as he looked between two of his closest friends.

“Kid-” Morgan started, eyes narrowing.

“I’m. Fine,” he interjected tightly. “Just a bad dream. It’s exceedingly common to have them after trauma, which is something you both are aware of. Go back to your seats.” He figured that, between his no-nonsense tone and the matching expression on his face, there was an eighty percent chance of them listening to him. Everyone on the team knew he wasn’t one to talk about his hurdles. Even during the aftermath of Tobias Hankel when he was struggling with drug abuse, he’d not told anyone outright until he had gotten himself clean.

He knew, of course, that they had suspected, but he’d never willingly shared the information with them of his own merit. He couldn’t. Just as he couldn’t share the horrifying dream he’d just had.

JJ and Morgan shared a look and reluctantly turned, but not before JJ gave his shoulder a light squeeze and Morgan told him to lay off the funky foods before resting. Both retreated to their seats and, after a few minutes, he was sure they were out cold once again.

He slumped back into the cushions and allowed his gaze to meet Hotch’s. Hotch didn’t normally interfere when a team member was struggling with nightmares, but the stern look on his face suggested that there was a strong likelihood that today he would.

“How are you feeling?” Hotch asked, eyes scanning Spencer’s form. “You’re due to take another round of pain meds and antibiotics in about an hour, but the doctor mentioned you could take them earlier if needed,” he added, pausing his inspection on Spencer’s thigh where the stab wound was. 

Spencer cursed himself as he felt heat creep onto his cheeks. 

A few weeks ago, he’d offered his comfort for Hotch. In his defense, he’d been the one to be there during the incident and he felt it only right to offer comfort in wake of it. However, since then, he’d become more… aware of his superior than he knew he should be. 

Aware of Hotch as a man, and not simply as his unit chief. 

With his eidetic memory, he could recall the exact moment he realized Hotch had dimples, and that those dimples made his stomach do things it really shouldn’t. Dimples on that man should be illegal.

Spencer shifted and tried to ignore the flush growing in his body, particularly close to where Hotch’s stare rested.

“I, ah, thank you for that, Hotch. I don’t - the pain is mostly in my chest and leg right now, but I’ll be okay,” he rushed out. His eyes strayed to Hotch’s shirt, partially unbuttoned and showing the top of his chest. No matter how hard he tried, his gaze kept returning to the exposed patch of skin and hint of hair. He swallowed hard and jerked his gaze to Hotch’s jacket draped over the back of the sofa. That was much less distracting than the man himself.

“Reid, it’s not uncommon to get nightmares in this job, as you mentioned previously. I know you’ve struggled with them before,” Hotch spoke, sitting forward and resting his hands on his knees. Spencer passed a hand through his curls before warily meeting Hotch’s gaze. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He could tell from the tense posturing and firm shape of his mouth that Hotch was just as uncomfortable with this line of conversation as he was, but he was still trying. Spencer appreciated it.

“Ah, is this the part where you tell me to lay down again and recount all the details from my dream so you can profile me and tell me exactly what’s wrong?” he joked, offering a nervous smile. Hotch relaxed and his expression lightened a little at Spencer’s response.

“Ha, ha, Reid. I just want to get a feel for where your head’s at before you’re at home for a week. It was pretty rough today, and I don’t blame you if you’re struggling. It’s only been a few hours. You did save the boy, though, Reid. You should be proud of yourself. I am.” Hotch’s praise immediately made the soft burn of his cheeks come back full force as he ducked his head.

“Ah, maybe I’ll take my meds now after all,” he mumbled, the subject change not nearly as smooth as he wanted it to be. He could feel Hotch’s eyes on him as he slowly got to his feet, wincing at the pain. However, Spencer hadn’t anticipated the jet encountering a bit of turbulence. It wasn’t unusual, but he was already unbalanced due to his injuries and soon found himself stumbling and tipping forward. His body flared in agony as he twisted to try and right himself before he crashed onto the floor and -

Strong arms gently encircled him and pulled him against a warm chest. He found himself instinctively gasping to catch his breath from the jolt, inhaling a rich, dark scent that was slightly spicy, filled with warmth, and all Hotch. He blinked a few times, disoriented as his body ached from both his injuries and the dip in his thoughts.

“Are you alright?” The velvety voice rumbled the chest he was pressed against and Spencer shivered as the deep tone washed over him. He raised his head and locked eyes with Hotch, going still at the concern swirling in the older man’s brown eyes. “... Reid?”

“Uhm, y-yes, I’m - I’m alright,” he faltered. He realized then that his hands were still splayed on Hotch’s chest. Their bodies were lightly pressed together from chest to knee, and he could feel the steady beat of Hotch’s heart beneath his right palm.

His other hand was resting directly over the opening in Hotch’s shirt and his eyes dropped to the contact. Spencer’s fingers twitched and then slowly moved, smoothing over the exposed skin. His mind wandered further, imagining dipping below the material of the dress shirt, tracing the muscles the fabric concealed first with his hand and then with his lips -

The warmth of the brief touch seemed to snap them into action as they quickly separated. Spencer’s face heated from his thoughts and the fact that Hotch had held him for as long as he did. Hotch’s expression was unreadable as he stepped to put some distance between them.

“Sorry, Reid. I didn’t want you to fall and hurt yourself anymore. Maybe you should sit down,” Hotch gestured to the sofa and he did as suggested. Hotch retrieved Spencer’s bag and medicine, offering them and a bottle of water to the younger man. Spencer gratefully accepted them before downing the pills and chasing them with the water. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Spencer shook his head, thankfully keeping his blush under control that time. He couldn’t believe that he’d nearly… 

Well, there’d been no  _ nearly  _ about it, really.

He’d touched Hotch. 

He’d… He’d touched  _ Hotch. _

He’d touched Hotch’s chest and neither of them had said anything, neither of them had acknowledged it.

He’d touched Hotch’s chest and he’d been so  _ warm…  _

Spencer’s gaze dropped to the floor as he recalled Hotch’s larger, solid frame pressed up against him, and he could feel his pants growing tighter.

Deliberately placing himself facing away from the unit chief, he snagged the blanket from the back of the sofa that he’d been using before the nightmare. He bid Hotch a stiff goodnight and prayed his dreams remained innocent.

~

_ What just happened? _ Hotch wondered, his gaze fixated on the lanky figure breathing deeply across from him. It’d been a few minutes since the genius’s breathing had evened out and he knew that Reid had fallen asleep.

He remembered the brush of Reid’s fingertips against his chest, and the answering warmth that had washed through his body at the minute connection… and the resulting loss he’d felt when he forced himself to release the younger profiler. He shook his head.

Hotch knew he was just missing having someone there. He hadn’t had anyone to hold, let alone do anything more intimate with in years, not since Haley passed. He’d considered taking another partner, for Jack’s sake, but he’d never quite found any interest in anyone and things always fell apart because of his job when he had. 

Perhaps he really was just lonely and missing human contact.

He laughed silently through his nose and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling of the jet.

Hotch couldn’t quite put a finger on what was happening, but he knew he was growing closer with Reid. Perhaps they were learning to trust each other beyond simply their job.

That was a good thing, Hotch noted, tilting his head to look at the others on board. It was the kind of trust he noticed Reid sharing with the rest of the team.

Rossi, the father figure of the bunch with many incredible experiences under his belt. He was the one Hotch turned to when he needed someone to bounce ideas off of as the man was absolutely brilliant. Morgan was the comedian but could be serious when a situation called for it. He was also loyal to a fault and had never let the team down. JJ was the mother hen who was damn good at her job, both in the profiling aspect as well as how she handled the media and the team itself. Prentiss was… well, she was future unit chief material - well rounded with a good head on her shoulders. And lastly…

His eyes shifted back to the sofa before him. Their boy wonder, as Garcia called him. He wondered why Reid never seemed to go on outings with anyone outside of their BAU team.

JJ had Will and now Henry. Morgan had his family as well as his volunteer work with younger boys without fathers. Garcia and Prentiss liked shopping together, Rossi had many friends (and multiple ex-wives), and he had Jack and Jessica. 

Did Reid’s mother count? As a paranoid schizophrenic, he wasn’t so sure she did. Did Reid have any relations or friendships outside of what he’d established through the FBI? Or was it just… Reid?

He tried to imagine Reid on a date with a woman but shook his head. No, he’d never heard the genius even mention a female in his life. Perhaps he was interested in men…?

Hotch stilled and tapped his leg. Why was he speculating so hard on this?

_ Because I care for him… like a son… like Jack,  _ he reasoned, smiling a little. That was it, he felt for Reid in the same sort of protective manner he did Jack. After all, he was the youngest on the team and despite his IQ, he could be quite oblivious and naive in some situations.

Hotch wanted him to be safe, that was it.

That was it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Unbeta'd as of 3/12/21 (currently looking for a beta tester)  
> \- Updates once a week (Thursdays or Fridays)  
> 


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